Invisible line
by TiTivillus
Summary: Cole's first mistake was going after Dean. His second mistake- the one that would cost him his life- was hurting Sammy. Season 10, Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Invisible line

**Summary: **_Cole's first mistake was going after Dean. His second mistake- the one that would cost him his life- was hurting Sammy. Season 10, Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean_

**Warning: **M for language and violence

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Not making money with my stories either ;)

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><p>"I know what you are."<p>

It takes a second for Dean to recognize the voice, but when he does the world around him comes to a screeching halt.

"Cole," he breathes, grip tightening around his phone as he stops dead in his tracks. "What do you want?"

The menacing chuckle emanating from his opponent's throat sends a shiver down his spine.

"Your head on a platter, you demonic son of a bitch" Cole snorts into the earpiece, the slight wavering of his voice betraying his cool exterior. "But since I can't have that, I figured I'd make do with something else instead."

Dean takes a hasty look around, pushing through the crowds of bustling police officers in his urge to leave the crime scene. He had been in the middle of an investigation, when his private phone suddenly went off, an unidentified number flashing on the display.

"You better get this over with quick, Cole. I don't have the time for this eye-for-an-eye bullshit..."

Another deep chuckle and Dean narrows his eyes at Cole's sardonic amusement. "Something funny?"

"Well yeah," Cole agrees. "It's just... when your brother told me about Vampires and Werewolves, I thought he was off his rocker. Wouldn't be the first guy I have driven over the edge after a little quality time together."

Dean closes his eyes, balling his hand into a fist and desperately wishing he could wipe the smug smile from Cole's face.

"But now I see that he was right. And that you are even worse of a monster than I could have possibly imagined."

"Are you done?" Dean shoots back, unwilling to listen to Cole's angry rant for one more second. "Because there is one thing I can guarantee you for fucking sure- you ever go _anywhere_ near my brother again and I will show you what it means to have _'quality time'. _And believe you me, when I say I learned from the best..."

His voice is low and dangerously quiet, every word laced with an undeniable fury that comes from somewhere deep within him.

Dean thinks back to Sam's quiet admission about having been overpowered, abducted and tortured by Cole and it's about all he can do to keep himself from tracking the fucker down and making him suffer.

"You know Dean... I must admit, at first I was disappointed to hear that you cared so little about Sammy's well-being. I mean after all, people in the community kept telling me about your glorious brotherly bond- surpassing heaven and hell and even death itself."

Cole chuckles again, dark and amused as if their brotherhood is nothing but a twisted joke to him.

Dean clenches his teeth in anger.

"It's _Sam_ to you, asshole," he corrects, unwilling to allow the bastard the privilege of using his brother's nickname. "And you don't know shit about us, so shut your trap."

"No can do, Dean. Hate to break it to ya' but that brother of yours? Well he's right here with me as we speak... staring at me with these huge pleading eyes of his."

Cole pauses for dramatic effect, knowing exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction out of Dean.

And he certainly isn't disappointed.

Dean's heart skips a beat as dread starts to settle in the pit of his stomach.

He hasn't spoken to Sam in almost 4 hours, at least not since they decided to pick up different trails and split up on the job.

Dean's system gets flooded by an all-consuming anger; a fierce protectiveness blazing through every fibre of his being.

"Cole I swear to fucking god–"

"_Swear to god?" _Cole exclaims cockily, not giving Dean time to finish. "That's rich coming from a demon, don't you think?"

Dean freezes, trying to calm his raging pulse when he hears the metallic 'Click' on the other end of the line.

He has heard the sound of a cocked gun too many times to mistake it for anything else.

In his mind's eye he can see Cole point an automatic at his defenseless brother's head.

"Woah, woah, woah, let's think about this for a second, huh? Your beef is with me, Cole. Sam's got nothing to do with it, you hear me?"

"I'm not so sure about that, man. Something's telling me that you aren't as indifferent towards your little brother as you pretend to be."

"I'm _not_ indifferent." Dean snarls, huffing at the mere assumption that the floppy haired, dimpled, sweet kid he had raised, was anything less than the center of his whole life.

"Believe me, you don't wanna find out how much I care about him. Because if you hurt him again, _**I will end you**_. And that's a fucking promise."

"That true?" Cole asks, sounding amused by Dean's empty threat. "Huh... well what if I told you I already hurt him? What if I told you I hurt him so bad, he wouldn't stop screaming your name, like the pathetic little bitch he is–"

"_Shut your fucking mouth!" _Dean snarls, throwing caution to the wind.

A few bystanders shoot him wide-eyed looks but Dean doesn't care. His whole world is narrowed down to the tiny piece of technology in the sweaty palm of his hand; the cell phone having turned into a lifeline now that it is his only connection to Sam.

"See that's what I've been looking for, Dean-o" Cole laughs in that smug, arrogant way that makes Dean's skin crawl. "That anger right there- the pain? That's what people meant when they told me to stay away from you..."

"_What do you want from me, you son of a bitch?" _Dean pressed out through clenched teeth, slamming the palm of his hand against the hood of the Impala for emphasis.

"I want you to suffer," Cole states matter-of-factly and Dean doesn't doubt his words for a second. "I want you to feel the same fucking pain I felt when you murdered my dad in cold blood and walked away as if nothing happened."

Dean's entire body is shaking with tremors as he waits for Cole to get down to business.

"So here's how we're gonna do this... I'm in a warehouse at the outskirt of town, 257 Melrose Lane. My GPS tracker tells me you're just over 70 miles out, so I'll expect you here in half an hour."

Dean doesn't waste any time.

As soon as the words have left Cole's lips, Dean is sitting in the driver's seat of his baby, foot pressing down on the accelerator, door slammed shut and tires screeching against tarmac as the vehicle roars away.

"Wait, how do I know you're not lying?" Dean bites out, not willing to run straight into a trap, unless he knows for sure that his brother's life is on the line.

"Oh that's right, I almost forgot," Cole laughs into the phone and that's all the warning Dean gets before a deafening shot rings out from the distance.

"NO!" Dean's heart is hammering against his chest, his eyes widened in shock as he hits the brakes in the middle of the road.

His ears are ringing with the metallic echo of a bullet getting fired.

"Sam!"

He can't fucking breathe. His mind is reeling with pictures of Sam falling to the ground in a puddle of his own blood and he can't breath.

_Please...god, no.  
><em>  
>"Sam?! SAMMY!"<p>

His hand is throttling the steering wheel and he's about 2 seconds away from completely losing his shit when he hears a wet, agonized gurgle in the background- a voice he would recognize anywhere, even if it was muffled and pained like this.

Relief and white hot rage crush over him like a tidal wave and Dean closes his eyes against the familiar sting of tears.

"You sick bastard! Where did you hit him?! _What the fuck did you do?!"  
><em>  
>"See you soon, Dean."<p>

"No, Cole- _wait_–"

But it's already too late. Cole is no longer listening; the line disconnected.

"_Sonofabitch_!" Dean screams, slamming his hand against the dashboard of his car.

He starts the Impala up again, pushes the gas as far as it would go, breaking speed limits and traffic laws alike and not giving a single fuck.

An hour ago, Cole had been nothing more than a dark memory in his muddled head.

Apart from the fact that the guy had messed with his brother, Dean wouldn't have given him a second thought.

But this?! This is his fucking death sentence.

Going after Dean Winchester is a mistake on itself. But going after Sammy? That's one mistake you don't get to walk away from alive. Especially not if you are stupid enough to make it _twice_.

Dean locks his jaw, eyes narrowed in steely determination.

Just because he is no longer a demon, doesn't mean he's less dangerous to the outside world.

In fact, it means the exact opposite.

**The END... (or is it?) ;)**

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><p><em>So I don't know about you guys, but I am pretty curious about this Cole character! :) I figured that the 'real' Dean would have something to say about some dude putting a hammer to Sam's kneecap, so here we go ;) As always, reviews are very much appreciated! <em>_Please, tell me what you thought! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Invisible line

**Chapter 2**

**Author's notes: **_I've had some trouble with my doc manager recently, so I apologize for everyone who received multiple notifications for chapter2! Sorry guys ;)_

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><p>Dean knows that Cole is waiting for him when he pushes the door to the warehouse open.<p>

The storage building is perfect for an ambush- secluded from the rest of town, partly hidden behind a patch of trees and bathed in the hazy glow of dirty street-lights.

Dean would be rolling his eyes at the clichéd setting if he wasn't sick to his stomach with foreboding anticipation.

He steps inside, gun sitting heavy in the palm of his hand as he passes a line of dust-covered shelves.

A light bulb is swinging back and forth from the ceiling, casting shadows across graffiti covered walls.

Dean's body is coiled tight, practically thrumming with adrenaline, silent fury buzzing under his skin like the raving eye of an underground beast.

The steady thump of his footsteps echoes loudly through the storage halls, giving his presence away, but Dean doesn't care.

He isn't exactly going for a stealthy approach.

Twenty minutes ago he had been forced to listen to his brother getting shot over the phone and ever since that, Sam's muffled sound of anguish has been on autoplay in Dean's mind- repeating over and over again until it matched the rhythm of his terrified heart.

For all he knows, Sam could be bleeding out not even ten feet from where he's standing.

And there's no way Dean is going to let that happen.

"Show your fucking face, Cole!" he snaps. "I'm not in the mood to play hide and seek."

"Could have fooled me," comes the husky reply and Dean whirls around so fast he's giving himself whiplash.

Cole's right there- crouched down a few steps behind him, elbows resting casually on his knees and meaty hands dangling loosely between his legs.

"Howdy, Dean" he greets, mouth twisting into a malicious smile. "Nice outfit you got there."

He lets his gaze travel all over Dean's body, taking in the cheap suit and tie with a quirked eyebrow. "You really didn't have to get all prettied up for me."

Dean's fingers tighten on the trigger of his gun.

"Where's Sam?" he growls, ignoring the teasing comment about the outfit that was part of his FBI cover.

"They teach you how to tie a tie in demon school?" Cole carries on, as if Dean had never spoken.

A picture of Alistair flashes before Dean's eyes, the smell of burned flesh fills his nose and cinder clogs his airways.

"Oh, they taught me all kinds of things in _'demon school'"_, he sneers, teeth bared in anger. "And you are about to get a demonstration if you touched one hair on my brother's head."

Cole isn't fazed by the threat.

If anything, he looks amused by Dean's words. Something about his whole posture, about the smug expression on the guy's face isn't sitting well with Dean.

It sends an ice-cold shiver of fear down his spine.

He had learned a long time ago, that a man was most dangerous when he had nothing to lose.

And right now? Cole looks like he couldn't care less about coming out of this alive, as long as he's dragging Dean down with him in the process.

Possibly Sam too...

He can see it in the depth of Cole's eyes; the desperation, the unvarnished need for revenge so evident in his piercing gaze.

There's no doubt in Dean's mind that tonight is going to end bloody.

Only question is for whom.

"Where's my brother?" he repeats, voice rising in volume. "What did you do to him?!"

Cole stares him down for another second, not giving a fucking inch.

Then a sinister smile spreads on his lips and he stands, straightening up to his full height.

"You wanna know what I did to him?" he grins, visibly pleased with himself as he throws a sideways glance to the corner of the room behind him. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Dean follows his gaze and freezes, heart skipping a beat in abject horror.

Not even twenty feet away from him, Sam's unconscious body is sprawled across the dirty concrete, head angled unnaturally to the side.

Crimson covers the better part of his pale face, dark tracks of red crossing paths as the blood leaks from Sam's nose and from the cuts in his swollen lip.

There's an egg-sized lump on his brother's forehead and Dean's anger rises upon realizing that Cole must have knocked him out by taking a blunt object to his head.

Sam's hands are tied behind his back, damaged shoulder twisted into a submissive position, ankles bound together with a coil of thick rope.

He's completely motionless and for a breath-taking second Dean wonders if he's even still alive, because it's hard to tell if his chest is rising and falling in the dim haze of light that emits from the dirt-crusted lamps in the hall.

"Guess he's not in much of a talking mood..." Cole smirks, white teeth glinting in the dark. Dean's nostrils flare, sparking with fury as he clenches his free hand into a fist.

"_I'm gonna kill you,_"he growls, silently vowing to make Cole pay for every ounce of pain he'd inflicted on his little brother- for every single cut and bruise on his body.

Dean takes a closer look at Sam's still form on the ground and his stomach flips in sick horror when he notices the puddle of blood growing steadily around his right leg- probably from where Cole had shot him earlier.

Jesus... how much blood has Sam lost?

Even in the obscure light, Dean sees the pallor of his brother's skin; notices the fine tremors that wreck his brother's injured body.

This isn't good.

"Sammy-" The name rolls from his tongue in a broken whisper and Dean moves forward on instinct, the terrifying sight of his injured brother driving all rational thought from his mind.

"Uh uh uh- Not so fast..." Cole chides and that's when Dean notices that the other man's hand is extended, weapon aimed steadily at his little brother's skull.

"Did you really think it was gonna be that easy, Dean? You waltz in here, save the damsel in distress and what- leave again? That's cute."

"You forgot the part where I'm killing you," Dean snaps, a new surge of white hot rage burning through him at the smug tone in Cole's words; at the way he had laid Sam out on the floor like a wounded animal waiting for the killing shot that would take it out of its misery.

The fucking bastard doesn't even know that he signed his own death warrant the second he laid hands on his brother.

"_Please..._"Cole drawls out, with a menacing grin. "You're really not in any position to make threats, Dean, and we both know it."

He wanders over to where Sam is lying in a motionless heap and crouches down, aim never wavering from his defenseless target.

"Unless of course... you need me to go through the whole 'I'm the one in charge'-procedure. Because I would gladly put another round of lead into your boy here if you haven't gotten the memo yet."

"Back off, Cole," Dean growls, taking a step forward, fingers tightening on his gun. "Get away from him now,_ or so help me god_-"

Cole laughs at that, throwing his head back a little.

"Wow..." he breathes, one hand coming down to grab a fistful of Sam's hair, before brutally ripping his head back in a demonstration of power and dominance.

Dean's heart makes a leap in his chest, mouth dropping open in protest when Cole trails the muzzle of his gun along the line of Sam's jawbone in an almost loving gesture.

Dean's whole body goes rigid at the sight, every instinct of his being is screaming at him to tear the guy apart limb by limb for daring to touch his brother in this mockery of affection.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Cole trails off, smearing the blood on Sam's pale cheeks with the glinting steel barrel.

"Get what?!" Dean bristles, taking an unvoluntary step forward.

"That from now on out, you are going to do anything I tell you, unless you want your brother to pay for it. And when I say _anything_, I fucking mean it. Understand?!"

Yanking Sam's head back even further, Cole moves the muzzle of his gun over his slack lips, nudging them apart until the cool metal slides past them, stretching his mouth obscenely wide around the barrel of his 45'.

"Cole..." Dean chokes out, shaking his head. "_Don't-_"

A string of bloody saliva trickles over the shiny silver and Cole's eyes narrow in steely determination as he pulls back the hammer of his gun, pushing it even further into his brother's mouth.

"I asked if you understand me, Dean."

The muffled 'click' of the cocked gun makes Dean flinch, breath stuttering in his chest.

Sam is still out of it, but even unconsciously his body is trying to adjust to the painful intrusion, swallowing convulsively around the ungiving metal that nudges the back of his throat.

"Do you UNDERSTAND?!"

"I DO! I fucking do, alright?" Dean bursts out, willing to cooperate if that meant that freaking lunatic would let go of his brother. "_I understand. _Now take that fucking thing out of his face. I'll do whatever you say."

Cole breaks out into a smug smile, reveling in Dean's broken submission.

But instead of loosening his hold on Sam, he holds on to the younger Winchester with even more force, keeping him in his prone position on the ground.

Now that he's received the final confirmation of how much Sam means to the older brother, he is unlikely to give up his leverage anytime soon.

"Drop your gun to the ground. Amo first. "

Dean locks his teeth and does as he's told, ejecting the magazine from his revolver before lowering both parts of the weapon to the ground. "Satisfied?"

"Kick them over," Cole commands. "And then lose the jacket."

Dean rips the offending clothing off and throws it to the ground, annoyance radiating off of him in waves as he waits for further instructions.

His eyes are never leaving his brother's face, painfully aware of the fact that the merest twitch of Cole's finger could end Sammy's life in the flash of a second.

"Shirt too..." Cole orders, causing Dean's eyes to widen in indignation.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. What's next, you want me to give you a lap dance? Do the hokey pokey?"

Cole doesn't rise up to the bait.

"I don't swing that way, Dean. But thanks for the offer..."

Dean huffs and starts fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, trying hard not to think about the fact that he is undressing in the middle of bumfuck nowhere while a crazy guy is making Sam eat his freaking gun.

And because the universe hates him, that's the moment when Sam decides to come back to his senses, dark eyelashes fluttering against blood crusted skin.

Dean instantly stills his movements, holding his breath.

There's a second of nerve-wrecking silence before Sam's eyes crack fully open, dilated pupils tracking lazily through the room.

Even from the distance Dean sees the confusion clouding his brother's gaze and coupled with how long Sam's been passed out, the concussion is kind of a given.

"Look who's finally ready to join the party," Cole chuckles, lightly grasping Sam's face with his fingers. "Just in time for the big showdown... Say hi to your big brother, kiddo."

Sam's eyes widen comically when he sees Cole's face, trying to suck in air around the offending metal that blocks his airway.

And just like that he's freaking out, gagging around the gun in his mouth, chest heaving as he kicks and trashes around on the floor, trying to dislodge Cole's grip on his face.

"Sammy-" Dean calls out, trying to calm his frantic brother down before he harms himself or causes the weapon to go off. "Hey, _look at me _- it's okay. Everything will be alright, I promise..."

Sam's panicked eyes flash over to Dean at the sound of his brother's voice, before Cole yanks his head back with a merciless tug of his hair.

"You two are breaking my fucking heart."

Sam starts gagging painfully, Cole's finger twitches on the trigger and Dean is on the verge of having a breakdown when he sees an unvoluntary tear slip from Sam's unblinking eyes.

"Alright stop it, _you sadistic asshole_" he bites out from behind clenched teeth before quickly working off his plaid cotton shirt and turning around in a slow circle- arms raised in surrender.

"No other weapons, see?! Now let go of my brother you sick bastard and let's get this show on the road. You want your fucking revenge? Then go ahead and get it. I'm the one that snuffed your old man! I'm the one you should be pointing that gun at. Not him."

Dean doesn't even try to keep the emotion from his voice, knowing that the expression on his face is already speaking volumes.

For all his cool exterior, Dean had always been an open book when it came to Sam.

The kid is his whole freaking life.

To see Sam like this- vulnerable and hurt and literally two seconds away from getting _executed_ is killing him.

Cole knows that too.

And he fucking revels in that knowledge.

"You're right," he relents, pulling a set of handcuffs from the back pocket of his jeans and throwing them at Dean. "See that pipe over there? Cuff yourself to it."

Dean snatches the cuffs mid-air, grimacing when he sees the engraved devil's traps in the metal.

"You really did your homework, didn't you?", he growls walking over to the pipe and positioning himself in front of it.

It's safe to say that Cole had informed himself about demons if he knows about devil's traps, which means he would soon come to realize that Dean was no longer the black-eyed hell-spawn he had been during their last encounter.

Snapping the metal in place around his wrists, Dean meets his brother's wild gaze over the distance that separates them.

Sam's chest is heaving for breath and his whole body is trembling from shock, blood-loss and pain.

"It's alright, Sammy..." Dean promises gruffly when Cole finally takes the gun out of his mouth to let him catch some well-needed air.

Sam starts gasping, dropping back to the ground with a loud thud when Cole releases his brutal hold on the kid's hair.

"Dea-" Sam's pitiful attempt of rasping out Dean's name painfully reminds him of a time when they were both much younger and Sam had just started talking.

The memory of Sammy's toothless grin and dimples flashes before his eyes and sends a jolt of protectiveness through his heart and soul.

"I'm gonna get you out of here. Don't worry", he promises.

"I wouldn't bet on it, Sammy-boy..." Cole chuckles darkly, marching over to were Dean is now shackled to the metal pillar that runs vertically up the wall.

He reaches around him to tug at the cuffs and then tightens them around Dean's wrists until the blood circulation is almost cut off completely.

"See your brother and I have a couple of things to discuss and you're gonna make sure he tells me the truth."

He makes eye-contact with Dean, before leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"And by the end of tonight..."

Cole's warm breath ghosts over Dean's neck and sends a ripple of fear down his spine.

"Big brother's gonna watch you drown in your own blood."

**TBC...**

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><p><em>Alright, first of all- YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! :))) I was sooo incredibly humbled by the reactions I got to this fic, seriously I am totally blown away by the positive feedback I received. Thank you all so much!<br>I really wasn't sure if I should continue with this story, but how could I refuse you a second chapter if you ask so nicely? Excuse me for being cruel and sadistic, but Dean and Cole really have a lot of dark water under the bridge and they kind of developed a life of their own in this story.  
>That being said, who's in for more?! :) Because I'm only just getting started... <em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Invisible line

**Chapter 3**

**Author's notes: **'Billy Pilgrim' is a reference to Kurt Vonnegut's novel "slaughterhouse 5''

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><p>Callused knuckles impact on flesh with a sickening <em>crunch<em> when Cole drives his fist into Dean's face, knocking his head back against the steel pipe with brute force.

Pain explodes behind Dean's eyes like fireworks, white stars splashing his vision. Cole's laughter is drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he struggles to breathe through his blood-clotted nose, head lolling bonelessly from one side to the other.

"Gotta say, Dean... this feels pretty liberating" Cole snickers, clenching and unclenching his fingers with a wince of his own.

Dean swallows down the blood in his mouth and twists his lips into a lazy grin, teeth coated in dark red as he juts out his chin and squares his shoulders.

"Glad you're enjoying this as much as I d- _ungh_–"

Another blow hits him in the stomach and he can't help the groan that escapes his throat when a mind-numbing shock ripples through his body.

He shoots forward, trying to curl up around the agony that spreads through his abdomen, but the cuffs keep him in place, holding him captured.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain and tries to catch his breath.

"Anybody ever...ever tell...you...that you hit like... a girl?"

His own voice sounds garbled and foreign to his ears and his throat feels like it is on fire. Every letter that rolls from his tongue feels like broken shards scraping on raw sinew and Dean isn't sure how much more of this shit he can take before he passes out. He just knows that he won't give up.

Instead, he flexes his muscles, gritting his teeth in gut-burning anger. He can do this. They've been in worse situations than this before. He will think of something to get them out of this mess, right after he catches his breath.

Cole grins and Dean straightens up again in his shackles, refusing to show weakness or pain even if it feels like his whole body is ablaze with fire.

"Don't you ever get tired of the cocky bullshit, Dean?" Cole drops down on one knee before him and starts frisking him.

Dean knocks his pounding head against the steel pipe in frustration.

"You sure you're not getting off on this? Cause with the groping and the striptease and the..." he tugs at the cuffs "..._bondage_, I'm getting all the wrong signals here, man."

"Kinky, Dean" Cole chuckles, patting his trouser legs down methodically, checking for weapons of any kind.

Damnit... there is no way Cole can miss the small silver blade that is strapped to his ankle. And...yep...there it goes...

Cole tucks it out of the small weapon strap and holds it up, steel tip glinting dangerously in the dim light of the warehouse.

Dean had sharpened it not too long ago. It might seem small at first, but it was useful- especially for cutting rope and bindings. Not that it would have helped him to get out of steel cuffs, but Dean still feels oddly naked being bereft of his very last weapon and standing there in nothing but a thin sleeveless shirt and tux trousers.

"You know, Dean..." Cole straightens up again, gaze trailing up and down the small silver knife in an almost tender way. "You are right. Maybe I am loving this way more than I should. I mean, only thinking about all the things I'm going to do to you and little Sammy over there..."

He shoots a look over at Sam, who has been gagged and bound to wooden pillar at the other side of the room. He smirks and turns back to trail the tip of the knife along Dean's jaw. "I would lie if I said it didn't make me go all tingly inside."

"Well don't you worry about it, it's absolutely normal for a girl your age to feel a little hormonal–"

Another punch hits him square in the face, and this time Dean's bones screech in protest as they grind against each other under the force of Cole's fist.

There is a moment of disjointedness, an odd feeling of complete detachment, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision.

It hurts.

That's what a broken cheekbone will do to you.

Dean can't help the grunt of pain that tumbles past his blood-slick lips as he sags in his bonds.

Sam is screaming something unintelligible; the sound is muffled by the dirty rag in his mouth. It sounds like_ "Stop" _or something along the lines of that and if his brother is screaming, Dean figures he probably looks as bad as he feels.

He spits a glob of bloody spittle to the ground, shaking his head to clear his vision.

"You're...one..twisted fuck...you know that?"

"Takes one to know one, Dean. We're not all that different you and me..." Cole chuckles and drags the silver blade across Dean's skin, drawing a thin line of blood along his jaw bone.

Dean flinches at the sting and glowers at Cole from beneath heavy eyelids.

"Yeah right,... I don't think so."

"I killed many innocents too, you know? Casualties of the war you might say... They too, were somebody's sons, fathers, husbands... _brothers_–"

Dean's eyes narrow dangerously at the implied threat and he gives his chains another forceful tug, ignoring the way the metal bites into his chafed wrists. Cole just smiles, grey eyes sparkling with sardonic amusement.

"After a while you don't even feel guilty anymore... It's almost like you're physically _unable_ to feel empathy for anyone, because if you let yourself wallow in your guilt and self-hatred you are already as good as dead. A protective mechanism- one might say..."

Dean snorted. "Well I'm glad you could get that off your chest, Billy Pilgrim."

Warm blood is trickling down his face and throat from where Cole had cut him earlier and pain is radiating from his whole body, but Dean's only weapon are words now. And he had always had a good way with them when it came to making somebody angry.

Cole smirks at him before tightening his grip on the blade and Dean bites back a yelp when the sharp blade sliced into the thin skin once more.

"It's a terrible thing to be a soldier, Dean. But it also turned me into a man without conscience."

"You mean a PTSD-crazed wacko..." Dean corrects, nostrils flaring as he scowls at his opponent.

Cole thumbs away a trickle of blood from Dean's jugular vein, and rests his thumb over the hollow of his throat, pressing down with just enough force to make it threatening. Dean swallows against the uncomfortable pressure, eyes never wavering from Cole's calculating gaze.

"I'm a killer, Dean. Just like yourself. So I figured, what's one more father, or husband... or _brother_- to add to my list of casualties?"

The fingers withdraw from his throat so fast that it leaves his mind spinning and Dean is forced to watch Cole's retreating back as the guy stalks over to Sam.

"_You stay the hell away from him, you sick sonofabitch!_" Dean roars, thrashing furiously against the metal that flays his skin, but it's useless.

The pipe isn't shifting and the restraints are too tight for him to slip through, even if he would somehow manage to break his wrist.

Dean isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

He can't do anything but watch helplessly as Cole sinks into an easy crouch before his injured little brother, holding up the small silver knife that was now coated with Dean's blood as if to check its sharpness in the dim light of the warehouse.

"Hi there, Sammy..." Cole says almost casually, before roughly yanking the gag from his brother's mouth . "You wanna join in on the fun?"

"Go fuck yourself." Sam says hoarsely, voice scratchy from all of the screaming he had done earlier.

A flash of pride starts to bloom in Dean's chest at the kid's defiance. Sam had been through a lot these past couple of hours, and by nature- he was the more reasonable of the two of them, always trying to solve problems with words rather than fists, but the kid could put up one hell of a fight if he wanted to.

Cole shakes his head with a dark chuckle and Dean shudders with dread when he sees the glinting blade int the guy's hands.

The bastard is putting on a show for him, he's going to turn this into some kind of torture session, Dean suddenly realizes with absolute disgust and horror.

"I'm gonna give you one more chance at this game, before we start, okay Sammy-boy? Why did your big bro over there..." He throws a quick at Dean over his shoulder. "...kill my father?"

Sam's sweaty and pale, dark hair strands hanging lifelessly into his eyes as he blinks up at his tormentor. "I don't know..." he replies honestly, but of course, that's not the answer Cole wants to hear.

There's a second of silence and deep down- Dean knows something bad is about to happen.

"He's telling the truth, okay?! He wasn't even in the same state at that time- goddamnit Cole, he's got nothing to do–"

"SHUT UP!" Cole bellows, before brutally thrusting the knife into Sam's shoulder. A blood-curdling scream of agony fills the air when Sam's back arches in an unvoluntary movement forced by spasming muscle.

And Dean fucking loses it.

"_You motherfucker_!" He lunges forward in a rush of desperate fury, ignoring the pipe's protesting screeches as he rams his full body weight against the metal pillar, again and again and _again_, until the cuffs tear through his chafed skin and blood gushes from his flesh.

"Let go of him, leave him alone you sick, twisted fuck!" he roars, spittle flying from his mouth as he helplessly watches his brother twist in agony on the other side of the room.

Cole is still clutching the silver knife that is tightly lodged in Sam's left shoulder, knuckles paling around the hilt.

"Why did he kill my father?" he repeats, running his other hand through Sam's sweat soaked hair, tugging at the strands to force his head upright and look into his pain-filled hazel eyes.

"Answer the fucking question or you're gonna be in a world of pain, because this?" He jolts the knife slightly, jarring Sam's insides and eliciting a grunt from the young hunter. "Is nothing compared to what I'm gonna do to you if you don't start talking right this fucking second."

"He doesn't know, you sick son of a bitch! **I DO**! Get back over here and I'll tell you, I swear I'll tell you- just leave him alone, okay?!"

Cole doesn't even turn around to face him. He never even moves a finger. His cool gaze is never striving from his prey- the panting, shivering mess in front of him that is twisting in agony like a fucking worm on a hook. _  
><em>

"Why did he do it?!" Cole screams, leaning forward to apply more pressure to the knife until Sam's ragged breathing turns into broken sobs of agony.

"I will kill you!" Dean seethes through clenched teeth, whole body vibrating with the all-consuming rage that rushes through his veins. "I will fucking rip you apart!"

"Last chance, before this turns ugly, Sam." Cole says and waits until Sam's sobs have quieted down enough for him to hear what he's saying. "Why did your brother kill my old man?"

Sam's pupils are blown so wide they look almost demon-esque over the distance.

His eyes are red-rimmed and his nose is blotchy and even with the blood and the bruises on his face, he looks like the snot-nosed little brat that used to bring home stray kittens and give half of his lunch money to homeless people. And it's completely beyond Dean how ANYBODY could ever want to hurt Sam, when all the kid ever wanted to do was good.

"C'mon Sammy, you two are so tight, I'm sure he must have mentioned that little story along the road... Why did he do it?!"

"You kn-know..." Sam finally utters, eyes filled with agony, even as he stares defiantly into Cole's eyes. "M-maybe the asshole-gene runs...in the... family."

"Wrong answer."

Cole twists the knife inside of him with a merciless flick of his wrist before brutally ripping it out of the jarred flesh wound, flecks of blood spraying the cement around them.

Sam's eyes roll up into his head and he collapses into a lifeless heap, the only thing keeping him upright being his shackles.

"NOOOOO! Sammy?! SAM! "

**TBC...**

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><p><em>Alrighty guys. Sorry for the late update, I've been having a reeeally tough week... So I figured I would use all my pent-up anger and frustration and put it into this story...^^ This chapter was a little heavy on the dialogue- but I am a sucker for dialogue, so I hope that's okay :)<em>  
><em>I hope you guys are still in for more?! Did I mention that you are the most amazing, most wonderful readers EVER? Seriously thank you sooooo much for the continuous support, it really means a lot to me! :)) Please tell me what you thought about the chapter! Your reviews keep me motivated and always manage to make my day! So please drop a few words and I promise to make Cole pay^^ Deal? <em>


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Invisible line  
><strong><br>Chapter 4**

**Author's notes: **_Changed the rating of this story to T due to the verbal and physical violence (man... this fic turned out way bloodier than expected^^) Btw. I didn't particularly care for the way they resolved the whole Cole-storyline on the show. So promising and yet so anticlimatic. So for all of you who wanted more, enjoy the rest of this story (my version of Cole is a little less forgive-and-forget with Dean than the one in the show) :P_

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><p>Dean watches in abject horror as Sam's broken body slumps like a puppet with its strings cut off. Crimson spreads on the shirt beneath Sam's left collar bone like an exotic flower and Dean's heart lurches painfully in his chest.<p>

"Sammy!" he screams, writhing furiously in his bonds, voice catching on his brother's name but Sam isn't reacting, isn't moving, isn't showing any signs of awareness and from the distance Dean can't tell if he's even still alive.

He only knows that his brother must have passed out from pain and that he has definitely lost too much blood.

Sam needs help. And he needs it _right __**now**__.  
><em>  
>"SAM!" Dean roars, jerking viciously on his cuffs and ignoring the sharp pain that shoots through his arms when he jostles the torn flesh on his wrists.<p>

Hot tears are streaming down his face, painting clear tracks on blood-crusted skin. His heart is racing and he wants nothing more than to break free and cross the distance between them, to cradle Sam's face and look him over and make sure he's alright.

But that's not going to happen. Cole has made sure of that.

"I think Sammy's left the building," Cole says and harshly strikes the unconscious hunter across the face to prove his point.

"Leave him alone, you fucking bastard!" Dean lunges forward with a vicious snarl, but Cole doesn't seem intimidated by the threat.

"Looks like it's just the two of us now, Dean," he grins seemingly satisfied with the way Sam's head is hanging lifelessly from his shoulders, completely unresponsive to the brutal waking attempt.

Dean forces his raging heart to slow down and tries to breathe through the burning fury that grows in his chest like an all-consuming black hole.

He clenches his jaw, eyes burning through Cole's like liquid fire. "_No matter what else happens tonight-"_ he forces out past clenched teeth. "You are going to die a slow and painful death. And I'm going to enjoy _every_ second of it."

"You won't be killing anybody ever again," Cole says, standing up to leave Sam's broken body slumped against his pillar, soggy curtain of hair obscuring his battered face. "Not after I'm through with you."

Dean's gaze flickers to the silver knife that is left lying in a small puddle of blood merely two feet away from his unconscious brother, before resettling on his approaching opponent.

If Sam could somehow regain consciousness, then Dean would only need to distract Cole long enough for his brother to cut through the rope that was tied around his wrists and ankles.

But then what? Even if Sammy somehow managed to gather enough energy to pull that off despite his current state and the extent of his injuries, he would never be able to fight against Cole and come out on top... No, Dean needs to think of something else. _Think, Dean. Think, goddamnit!  
><em>  
>"So tell me," Cole says, squaring his shoulders as his mud green eyes bore daringly into his own. "What is it like to watch a beloved family member getting tortured and killed right before your eyes?"<p>

Dean swallows, holding Cole's gaze contemptuously. Because he knows exactly what it feels like to have the most important person of your life die in your arms, can still remember what it felt like to hold Sam's pliant body close as warm blood seeped from between his fingers, can still remember - with startling clarity -what Sam's ragged breathing had sounded like before it stuttered to a sudden halt in his chest and how the earth-shattering silence that followed had broken Dean's heart into a million pieces.

Cold Oak should be nothing but a distant memory after so many years, but to the day Dean still sometimes wakes in a cold sweat, confused and panicked, the phantom-feeling of icy mud on his jeans and sticky warm blood coating his fingers, his brother's name tumbling past shaking lips.

Things like that never fully go away. No amount of time can ever cleanse your soul from such horrors.

Dean's eyes are glistening with unshed tears at the onslaught of unwanted memories attacking his mind.

He tries to not let it show, but the mere thought of losing Sam again- the mere possibility of his brother dying terrifies him beyond words.

"Don't tell me I smacked the smartass right out of you, Dean…" Cole teases, a lopsided smile spreading on his lips. "How does it feel to see him like this, huh? How does it feel to know that your kid brother will die and that there's nothing you can do to prevent it from happening?"

Dean's expression turns from sad and terrified to murderous in a second flat. All his pent up anger quells up in his chest and spills from his lips in a sudden rush.

"Why don't_ you_ tell me, you son of a bitch?!" he snaps, bloodied spittle flying from his mouth. His throat is burning, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Must have been hard to walk in on me slaughtering daddy dearest in the living room... Guess something like that can turn you into a psychopath."

Infuriated by the words, Cole pulls his .45 from his waistband and strikes Dean across the face with the butt of his gun. The force of the blow sends Dean's world spinning and he reels backwards, blood gushing from his nose.

Groaning in pain,he fights to keep his bleary gaze focused, even as dark dots start to dance at the edge of his vision.

The clicking sound of a gun's safety doesn't even register with Dean until the weapon is nestled against the center of his forehead.

"Why did you do it, you fucking asshole?!" Cole snarls dangerously, pressing the cool steel muzzle forcefully into Dean's skin. "Was it some kind of demon-ritual?! A blood sacrifice? Some_ twisted black magic thing_?! Tell me or I'll blow your freaking brains out, I swear to god-"

Dean locks his jaw, taking a deep breath to calm his frantic heart.

His anger will get him nothing but a bullet between the eyes. He needs to calm the fuck down and switch tactics.

"Listen," he starts, swallowing past the blood in his mouth and meeting Cole's murderous glare. "I'm gonna tell you whatever you want to know, but you gotta let my brother go, okay?" Dean says, knowing his knowledge about what happened to Cole's father was the only bargaining chip he had left.

"You're... you're not a killer, Cole. My brother's got nothing to do with what happened back then and... and he's going to die if you don't get him any help. Look- I don't care what you do to me. I'm already long past saving, but Sammy? He's innocent, alright? He doesn't even know who you are. Do you really wanna live with his blood on your hands?"

Cole's face remains stoic throughout Dean's speech, completely unaffected by Dean's desperate attempt to bargain for his brother's life. Apparently he isn't in the mood to negotiate.

"Why did you do it, Dean? Tell me why you killed my father or so fucking help me-"

"Because he was a _monster,_ alright?!"

"A monster…" Cole trails off incredulously, eyes narrowed angrily as he stares Dean down, trembling fingers tightening on the trigger of his glock.

Dean's features twist into a broken grimace, eyes wandering off to his brother's lifeless form across the room. His heart is aching to hear Sam's voice one last time before Cole pulls that trigger. Just one more time. To say goodbye.

With a heavy soul, Dean forces himself to look back at Cole.

"What Sam told you? About werewolves and vampires and all that other crap? Well, it's true. We call ourselves hunters because we track down everything that goes bump in the night and kill it. Your father was fair hunt, he had already killed 3 girls in the neighborhood and he was looking for his next prey when I got there… I was just in time to stop him before he could attack your mom or you in his killing spree..."

Cole snorts. "And I'm supposed to believe this shit?"

"Believe it or not, but I'm telling the truth."

"So you are honestly trying to tell me that my father- the guy who raised me for 14 years and played hockey with me in the backyard was actually some- some creature preying for my death- But, what? Me and my mom failed to fucking notice?!"

"I think our judgment is clouded when it comes to family," Dean admits openly. "I think it's hard to accept that the people we love most could ever do anything to harm us. But just because we don't want to believe it, doesn't mean it's not true."

Cole's body is trembling just as much as his own, sweaty hair strands clinging to his forehead, eyes glistening with tears of pent-up emotion. The guy is a wreck.

Years of being on a vengeful path of destruction having obviously left their marks on his soul and body.

And Dean can't deny that Cole might have been right with his earlier presumption- that they might have more in common than he'd ever like to admit.

"I… I was just a freaking kid… and you- you came into our home and-" Cole breaks off, unable to finish the sentence, features twisted into a painful grimace and tears spilling from his brimming eyes. "And now you fucking stand here and… and tell me-"

"I'm sorry," Dean whispers, because what else is there to say? What else can you say to justify the murder of a beloved one? Dean knows that words will never be good enough.

"You're sorry…" Cole repeats in a twisted mixture of a sob and a laugh. He throws his head back, blue veins popping along the line of his throat. "You're sorry!" he exclaims, voice getting louder and eyes taking on a lunatic glimmer.

Dean stiffens at the change in tone, heart hammering frantically in his chest. This couldn't be good.

"You're FUCKING SORRY?!" Cole bursts out, face turning red as the air leaves his body in one whoosh. "_Oh you'll be sorry, alright…_"

The steel pressure disappears from Dean's forehead so quick, he can barely catch up with the sudden movement. "You want to tell me about _monsters_, you demonic creep?! I will send your corrupted soul back to hell where it came from."

Holding up his palm and spreading his fingers, Cole takes a broad-shouldered stance in front of Dean and stows his gun away before pulling a small leather-bound booklet from his jacket. Dean doesn't even have to see the small rosary that dangles from Cole's meaty fingers to know what the man is clutching in his hands.

_Freaking amateur._

"This is not gonna work, alright?" he fruitlessly tries to intervene, sending another frantic look at his unmoving brother. They don't have time for this! Sammy's chances of surviving are diminishing with each second they waste and this guy wants to freaking exorcise him?!

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spriti_-"

"-_**us**_." Dean interrupts, face growing annoyed when Cole makes his first mistake. Judging from the way he fumbles with the words, the guy has probably never had a single Latin class in his life. "It's **spirit**_**us**__, not spiriti_. Singular. Look, why don't you save us both the trouble and stop right there?"

If anything, Cole seems even more determined by Dean's correction.

"_Exorziamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-" _he starts again.

Dean balls his fingers into fists and clenches his teeth in frustration.

_"Omnis satanica potestas, omnes in crucio-"  
><em>  
>"<em><strong>Incursio."<strong>_ Dean snaps, rattling his cuffs just for the sake of it. "Man I hate to say this, but your Latin is even worse than mine."

Cole's fingers are shaking now, eyes wide and insecure.

He hurries through the rest of the exorcism and grows increasingly desperate when nothing happens.

"Why isn't this working?!" he finally demands, frustration and panic written all over his face. "Why aren't you reacting to this?!"

"You mean apart from the fact that you suck at exorcisms?" Dean mocks, eyesbrows wandering up to his hairline. "Well, maybe it's because I'm no longer a demon…"

"But I- I saw your eyes! They were BLACK. I saw you fight- and it wasn't- you weren't _human,_" Cole argues, clearly confused.

Dean sighs once more, head pounding and whole body aching.

He feels utterly exhausted, but the fear for his brother supplies him with enough adrenaline to keep him on the edge of a breakdown.

"I _am_ now."

Cole drops the leather-bound book to the ground, wooden rosary scattering across the cement before pulling his gun from his waistband once more and taking his aim. The resolution on his face is undeniable.

This time he means it.

Once more, Dean's eyes seek out his brother, looking for a way to somehow communicate with him (one last time) when he suddenly notices the slight difference in Sam's posture- the merest hint of tension in his brother's shoulders, from where he's still slumped against the pillar.

Dean blinks; not trusting his own vision enough to believe what he's seeing. But there's something in the way Sam's chest is rising and falling erratically that confirms his suspition.

His brother has regained consciousness.

Sam is awake.

Heart leaping in his chest, Dean feels his hunter instincts kick in and forces his gaze to resettle on his opponent, not wanting to give his brother away.

_Time for a distraction._

"Face it, Cole. I'm a full blooded human again. And I'm telling you; whatever the hell it is that you are trying to do? It's not going to work."_  
><em>

"What about this?" Cole asks, voice shaking so hard the words are barely distinguishable as he nods towards the gun in his hands. "This going to work?"

As far as Dean can tell, he is completely oblivious to Sam's awakening.

Dean tracks the gun's barrel with his eyes, wishing with all his heart that Sammy won't be forced to watch his execution. Because yes, taking a bullet from that distance is most certainly going to get the job done.

"Pretty sure… yeah," he swallows. "But I'll give you a fair warning. When I come back- and I **_will_** come back, I'm gonna make you wish you took that gun to your own head."

There is a thick silence between them, suffocating and oppressive.

And the only thing Dean can think about is the fact that whatever Sam's planning to do- he better do it quick, or he will have to scrape Dean's brain off the wall.

He and Cole look at each other. The tension between them snaps like a rubber band and Dean knows that it's over.

He is going to die.

"Go to hell," Cole spits out, cocking the hammer of his gun back and pulling the trigger.

A deafening shot rings out, echoing through the warehouse and Dean can almost feel the phantom kiss of death where a bullet almost would have pierced his heart.

It takes him a second to realize that he is not dead- is not even **hit**, before his brain catches up with what's going on around him.

Cole's still standing a few meters away, gun in his hand, but something is off with his expression, eyes torn wide and bulging out of their sockets.

He opens his mouth, weapon slipping from his grasp and then raises a trembling hand to his lips.

_Blood_, Dean realizes with absurd clarity.

Cole's choking on his own blood.

But why? _How?_

Shouldn't Dean be the one bleeding? Hadn't he been the one almost dying just a second ago?

Cole stumbles backwards, uncoordinated and weak; face paling as his knees give away beneath the bulky mass of his body.

And there behind Cole- barely able to hold himself up from the floor, is Sam, eyes shaded with darkness and fingers clutched around the hilt of Dean's silver knife where it is buried in Cole's back.

"You... first," Sam utters raggedly, breath scraping on worn-out lungs. "And... close the door... on your way down."

**TBC...**

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><p><em>Okay well first of all, WOW. Just wow. I am completely blown away by the amount of feedback I got for this fic and I just want to thank you ALL so much for the lovely words and favs and follows... You rock! As for this chapter- As much as I like Castiel as a character in the show, I have to admit that I was never really a big fan of him coming to the boys' rescue. Let's just say Sam is way tougher than he looks, alright? It will take more than a messed up shoulder and gimp leg to take him out... ;P Especially when his brother needs him to save the day. However, the boys are running on nothing but fumes at this point... I wonder what happens when the adrenaline wears off?<br>Next chapter will deal with the big fallout. (you didn't really think I'd go this easy on Cole, right? Dean still needs to make true on his promise...) Please tell me what you thought! Reviews are as always extremely appreciated!  
><em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Invisible line

**Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>Everything happens so fast, Dean has trouble catching up with it.<p>

His mind is spinning, heart racing, his breath whooshing in and out of his chest with the force of a sledgehammer.

Where Cole had stood two seconds ago ready to blow his brains out, his little brother is now looming, eyes wild and filled with silent horror.

Cole is gasping, twisting on the cold cement and coughing up blood. His hand his clawing at his back, frantically trying to reach the knife that was lodged somewhere to the left of his lower spine.

Dean takes a shaking inhale, the metallic scent of blood biting his nose, before tearing his gaze from the dying man on the floor and redirecting it towards Sam, who seems to be paralyzed by shock, whole frame shaking with the terror of having stabbed a human being in the back.

"Sammy," Dean chokes out, desperate to make himself heard over the sound of his own frantic heartbeat. His brother's eyes are glazed over and unfocused and he isn't reacting to Dean's voice.

_Damnit…_

"Sam!" Dean urges in a sharp tone similar to the one John would use on them whenever he needed them to be front and center on a hunt. "Hey, I need you to snap out of it and get me out of these cuffs, okay?"

His eyes are imploring, begging Sam to keep his shit together for long enough to free Dean from his restraints.

They need to finish Cole off and then get the hell out of this warehouse.

But it's hopeless. Dean's heart clenches painfully in his chest, when Sam sways on his feet, his long legs staggering beneath the weight of his body.

"Sam! Don't you fucking dare do this to me- you get those giraffe legs working right **_now_** and help me out of these goddamn cuffs–" Dean orders, voice strained with panic as he takes in the terrifying amount of blood covering his brother's pale face and battered body.

Jesus… it's a fucking miracle that Sam is even still alive at this point, much less standing and walking and _killing_ people.

How his little brother had managed to gather enough energy to pull that little stunt of is completely beyond him, but that doesn't change the fact that they need to get out of this place and burn some rubber on their way to the next freaking hospital.

"Sam, look at me," Dean chokes out brokenly, tugging uselessly at his restraints, eyes blurring with tears of frustration and pain. "I **_need _**you, okay? I need your freaking help, man, or this will be the end of us… C'mon Sammy, _please_…"

He holds no doubt about it; if Sam passes out right now, without getting Dean out of his bonds first, he will never wake up again…and Dean will be forced to watch his little brother bleed out in front of his eyes before slowly starving to death himself.

But it won't come to that. Because finally- _freaking finally_- after what seems like an eternity, Sam manages to snap out of his shocked trance. The pleading quality and desperation in his big brother's voice must have broken through the blurred mess of pain and confusion in his mind, because suddenly his eyes fill with recognition.

"Dean…" Sam mutters, blinking owlishly as he drags himself forward towards his older brother.

Dean closes his eyes as a tidal wave of relief washes over him, cleaning his soul from the inside out.

"_Thank god_," he exhales and then opens his eyes just in time to see a sluggish movement from the corner of his eyes.

He gasps, heart stopping dead in his chest at the realization of his fatal mistake. Cole! He hadn't even spared the man a glance in the past minutes, having been too focused on Sam's imminent breakdown.

"Sammy _watch out_, behind you!" he screams, at the same time as blood-smeared hands wrap around Sam's ankles like vices and yank him down to the ground.

"Noo!" Dean bellows and that's when something snaps in his mind, vision turning red with rage. He lets out an inhuman roar and yanks as hard on cuffs as possible, channeling all of his pent-up anger and hatred into that single motion.

The pain should be vicious enough to bring him to tears or knock him out when his thumb breaks under the force of the ungiving metal, but all Dean can feel is rage- filling his veins, clouding his mind, controlling his body.

The feeling takes hold of him with a disturbing intensity and Dean doesn't fight it, doesn't try to suppress it, even when his heart knows he should fight to push the blood-lust into the deepest corner of his mind. Instead, he lunges forward the second his hands come free, tackling Cole's body until his tormentor is pinned beneath him, struggling weakly, dark red spilling from his lips as he chokes on a panicked breath.

"Dean… don't–"

Sam's voice is nothing but a distant whisper, barely registering through the hot, white anger cursing through his blood. Dean's left hand is a mess of broken bones and marred flesh, but he doesn't care, doesn't even flinch as he presses it down harshly against his opponent's chest and lifts a balled fist into the air with his other.

"You wanna know why I killed your father, _you son of a bitch_?!" Dean sneers, spittle flying from his mouth. "I killed him because he fucking deserved it. And I would do it again if given the chance."

Cole's eyes are filled with the desperate panic of a dead man walking. He knows that he won't live to see another day, knows what's fucking coming for him and it **_terrifies_** him. Dean takes pleasure in the miserable sound Cole's making, reveling in the fact that he will see the light go out in the man's eyes soon.

"Dean!"

There's that annoying voice again and Dean can feel sluggish fingers tugging on his blood-coated shirt. "Dean, _please–"_

The fingers brush against his tensed arm persistently, but Dean doesn't even feel them, unable to focus on anything but the man struggling in his grasp.

The man who had tried to kill Sammy, who had abducted and tortured Sam with the clear intention to break Dean's will.

Dean leans down, lips stretching into a wicked grin, arm still extended in the air like a cobra ready to strike. "I'm gonna enjoy doing this," he says, eyes sparking with determination. "Just like I promised…"

"_Dean, noo!"_

He slams his fist down full force, crushing bones and flesh beneath his knuckles with deadly precision. He repeats the motion. Again. And again. And again. Until his vision is blurred; the bloodlust pulsating through his body, clouding his senses, numbing his instincts; until the whole world boils down to a single painful burning sensation in the center of his right forearm, where the mark of Cain has taken on a golden hue.

"_-op it! Please, Dean- just please–…"_

It's not until Cole's body stops struggling beneath him, not until the man stops moving altogether, that Sam's broken pleading finally pervades his haze of fury.

Dean blinks sluggishly; trying to clear his vision and then immediately regrets it when his tear-filled gaze settles on the unrecognizable pulp that used to be Cole's face.

He gags, scrambling back from Cole's lifeless body, boots scraping on cement in his haste to get away from the evidence of his rage, leaving a blood-trailed smear in his wake.

Sammy is huddled on the ground a few feet away from him, staring at Dean with a mixture of disbelief and shock in his wide and unblinking eyes. His breathing is raspy and wet, his whole body shaking and Dean feels like throwing up when he sees the obvious fear shining from his brother's deer-eyed gaze.

Sammy isn't just afraid for him. He is afraid **of **him. For the first time in their lives, his younger brother is actually afraid of him. Afraid that Dean had gone off track again, afraid that he might hurt Sam. Afraid that Dean might kill him.

"Sammy…" Dean whispers, voice dripping with guilt and bitter resignation. Now that the adrenaline leaves his body, he feels like every single bone inside of him is aching. His left hand is completely numb, hanging off his arm uselessly as he crawls across the floor to cross the distance between him and his brother.

When they are barely an arm's length apart, Dean hesitates, unsure if he is even allowed to touch his brother after what he had just done.

Sam flinches back from his touch and Dean wants to break down and cry at his brother's fearful rejection.

"I-I'm not gonna hurt you…" he tries to reassure. "I just need to check your wounds, alright?"

He needs to know the extent of Sam's injuries, needs to make sure that Sam will survive long enough for them to get to a hospital.

When there is no response, Dean takes it as a silent permission, and moves in closer, fingers trembling as they come to rest over Sam's left shoulder where warm blood immediately oozes between his fingers. "Jesus…" he breathes, immediately alarmed when he finds the jagged flesh wound from where Cole had twisted the silver knife beneath his brother's collar bone.

Sam hisses in pain at the careful prodding and Dean doesn't waste any time before ripping his T-shirt from his chest and bundling it up before pressing the dirty garment firmly against the stab wound in his brother's chest to try and stop the blood flow.

"Ahh…" Sam groans, eyes squeezing shut in his effort to block the pain out. Dean cringes in sympathy, shivering when the cool wind that hauls through the warehouse hits his bare skin.

"D'n…" Sam wheezes, fingers scraping against the cement floor before gently brushing against his brother's right arm, where the mark is glowing on his skin. "Th-the mark…" his brother started with a concentrated frown, eyes brimming with tears of concern and fear. "We have t-to–" Sam breaks off when a harsh cough rattles his body.

"Hey, shh... relax. Don't worry about the mark right now, okay? I'm here. I'm gonna take care of you, alright? I got you…"

_Because that's my job, right? Watching after my pain in the ass little brother._

Sam's body starts shivering as he succumbs to the effects of shock and blood loss in the aftermath of his adrenaline induced energy boost. Now that he is finally coming down from his high, Sam gets to feel the full extent of his battered body's injuries and it isn't a pretty sight to behold. His brother's life is hanging by a thread. And they both know it.

"You're gonna be fine, alright? I'll get you some help, Sammy. I promise…We'll figure the rest out later…"

He moves back from his brother's form and digs his blood-smeared right hand into Cole's jeans pocket, pulling out a cell phone and clutching it tight.

Sam isn't going to be able to walk, and there is absolutely no way for Dean to carry his brother out of the warehouse in the state he's in. Especially since Dean himself isn't off much better.

There was no way around it… they needed an ambulance.

"Dea–" Sam gasped, trying to track his brother's movements sluggishly with heavy-lidded eyes. "Don't… l-leave me, "he begged desperately, reaching out towards his older brother in an effort to regain Dean's full attention.

"Hey, calm down." Dean looked deeply into his brother's pain filled gaze, trying to give Sam the comfort he craved. He hastily dialed 911 and clutched the phone between ear and shoulder before reaching down to clasp his little brother's searching hand in his own and squeezing his fingers. "I'm here…Not going anywhere, okay? 'm gonna get you some help."

_I'll patch you up. You'll be as good as new_.

"911. What's your emergency?"

Dean rattles off the address in a rush, before hanging the phone up and moving down to Sam's leg where Cole had tied a make-shift tourniquet around the shot wound in his brother's thigh. The fabric is drenched with dark crimson, but at least the wound seems to have stopped bleeding a while ago. "God… Sammy, I'm so fucking sorry," Dean chokes out on a sob. "This is all my fault."

Sam's glassy eyes take on a distant shimmer as he struggles to hold his brother's gaze. "Dea…" It seems to be the only word he's still capable of uttering. "_I'm sorry too" and "It's not your fault" and "I love you" all in one._

"You gotta hold on for me, okay kiddo? You gotta hold on for a little while longer and I promise you, we'll make it alright. You and me against the world, man. Just like it's always been, right?"

Dean places a shaking hand on Sam's blood-smeared cheek and thumbs away the tears that continue to slip from his brimming eyes.

"Right?" he whispers once more, jostling his brother's head gently to try and get a response.

Sam blinks up at him, before his eyes start to lose their focus.

"Y-yeah," he exhales shakily, body going limp in Dean's tender hold.

**TBC….**

* * *

><p><em>Alright guys, this comes a little earlier than my usual update (as promised). I am actually supposed to study for finals, but oh well… this just wouldn't stop nagging me until it was written. Gotta say I'm a little nervous about how this chapter turned out, so please don't forget to tell me what you think! Btw, did I mention you guys are absolutely amazing! I still can't believe I got over a 100 reviews for this story! Thanks for all the love! Next chapter is going to be very chick-flicky… don't say I didn't warn you! :P<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Invisible line  
><strong><br>Chapter 6**

**Author's notes: **_Merry Christmas everyone! :) Hope you are spending peaceful holidays with your loved ones!_

* * *

><p>Dean's whole world is narrowed down to the shaggy-haired kid bleeding out in his lap. The shrill sound and flashing lights of the ambulance don't even register with him as he cradles Sam's lifeless body to his, a steady stream of broken reassurances spilling from his lips.<p>

It's only when foreign hands descend on his brother's unconscious form that Dean snaps out of his terrified rigor. His big brother instinct flares to life and he lets out a vicious snarl, pulling his brother tighter against his chest; ready to kill anybody who wants to touch Sam or harm him even further.

"Sir, we need you to move aside, " a foreign voice demands and Dean tilts his head, blinking up at the concerned face of an elderly woman.

She's not alone, there are people all around them, yelling senseless stuff over Dean's head, touching and prodding and starting to prepare a stretcher for them. "Sir? Are you injured yourself? Can you move aside, please? We need to have a look at your friend…"

_Friend?_ Sam isn't just Dean's friend. Isn't even just his brother. Sam… Sammy is _**everything.**_

"Oh my god…" another voice exclaims in a shocked gasp and Dean just wants to bury his face in the mold between Sam's shoulder and neck. Hide away from it all, close his eyes and pretend that they are safe… that they are somewhere else – anywhere but here, safe and together and _happy_.

"Did you see this guy, Annie? Jesus, what the hell happened in here?"

"He dead?" the woman closest to Dean asks and he squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, running frantic fingers over Sam's scalp, the comforting gesture now more for his own benefit than for his brother's. _It's gonna be alright Sammy… I'm not gonna leave you._

"Yeah, this one's a goner. From the looks of it I'd say skull fracture…"

"Let Simon take care of him and help me over here. Got two males about 30 to 35 years, both in hypovolemic shock. Looks like the longer haired one got a GSW on his left thigh, but this one won't let me get close. I'm not sure he can even hear me."

Dean blinks. Sniffs. Digs his blood-crusted fingers deeper into Sam's thick hair, rubbing his thumb across his little brother's forehead in a gesture of silent assurance, before moving back a little and meeting the woman's watchful gaze. "Can you hear me, Sir? Can you tell me where you're injured?"

Dean takes a shaky inhale and gently- oh so gently shifts his brother's limp body from his lap to the ground between them. "M-my brother. Sammy… He needs help."

He lifts his right hand to gesture towards Sam's shoulder blade, where the knife had been brutally twisted in his flesh, allowing her to take a closer look at his injured brother, but still hovering close enough to be there in case Sammy needs him.

Unwilling and unable to completely part from his unconscious sibling, Dean reaches down to cover Sam's clammy hand with his own, fingers briefly lacing with his brother's lax ones, conveying everything that he couldn't express with words.

The paramedic nods her thanks, her eyes sparking as if she is aware of the huge privilege she had just been granted- of the huge sacrifice Dean had just made by letting somebody else take a look at his dying brother. "Alright, what's your name?"

"Dean," he answers numbly.

"Dean I'm gonna need you to stay back while I check your brother out, okay? I know you wanna stay with him, but right now Sammy needs us more than you, understood?"

"_Sam_," Dean corrects automatically, more on instinct than on rational thought. "He doesn't like it when people call him Sammy."

"Big brother privilege, huh?" The paramedic shoots him a small smile, before directing her full attention towards his bleeding sibling.

With practiced hands, she pulls at the bloodied remnants of Sam's shirt, exposing his pale chest beneath the soaked fabric. Her eyes widen when she finds the jagged wound in Sam's left shoulder, dark red still quelling from the flayed flesh.

"Acute penetrating trauma near the left clavicle." Annie shouts over Dean's head at the male paramedic that had tended to Cole earlier.

"Blood loss?" the guy wants to know, causing Dean to bristle with anger. Of course Sam has fucking lost a lot of blood, isn't it obvious from the white-blue hue his skin has taken on?

"Hemorrhaging. He needs at least 5 units of O-negative." Annie supplies before leaning back and motioning for one of the other paramedics to come closer. "Help me get him on the stretcher, we need to get him moving."

The man next to Dean moves in to help Annie with Sam's weight, wrapping beefy arms around his brother and settling Sam's lifeless form against his chest in an attempt to lift him from the ground. Dean tenses at the sight of a stranger holding his brother's exposed and battered body close and forces himself to take a breath to calm his wrecked nerves.

"_One…two…three, go_." Annie orders and the three paramedics lift Sam's body onto the stretcher, eliciting an anguished whimper from his unconscious brother's lips.

Sam's hand slips from his grasp and Dean cringes in empathy, desperately wishing for a way to ease his little brother's suffering.

"Don't hurt him-" Dean pleads, scrambling forward to close the sudden distance between Sam and him and reclaim his brother's hand, only to be held back again when someone gently pushes against his chest.

"Hey, Dean, it's alright. Sam will be taken care off, I promise. There's nothing we can do for him here, so my colleagues are gonna carry him out to the ambulance."

Dean shakes his head, desperation warring with rationality in his mind. These people are taking his brother from him- his injured, unconscious brother. Sammy.

What if he wakes up and Dean isn't here? Or even worse- what if he never wakes up again and Dean doesn't get a chance to say goodbye? The mere thought is unbearable, causing hot tears to spill from his eyes.

"You don't understand," he forces past clenched teeth, watching helplessly as they carry Sam towards the exit of the warehouse. "_He's __**my**__ responsibility_."

Dean's voice hitches, his tone breaking on the last word.

How can you explain a lifetime of brotherhood and boundless care to a complete stranger?

How can you describe the kind of self-sacrificial, unabiding love that Dean and Sam share with mere words?

Annie looks at him with a deep-felt empathy that only a mother could muster upon putting herself into his shoes and imagining it was her own kid with its life on the line. "Let's get you to him then," the woman urges shakily, before helping Dean up from the ground.

Another tear breaks free from the older Winchester's eyes as he takes in the devastating amount of blood on the ground all around them. He feels sick at the sight.

One of the paramedics is zipping up a black body bag covering Cole's corpse and Dean shivers in discomfort, his knees shaking as he takes a step forward. He needs to be with Sam. It's the only thing he can think about.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Hatfield?"<p>

Dean hesitantly takes his eyes off his brother's pale form in the hospital bed.

Sam has only been out of the ICU for two hours and neither doctor's orders nor the persistent nagging of nurse Ratched can keep him away from his brother's side.

But when he looks up from his protective vigil, two police officers are standing in front of him, flipping their badges.

_Just freaking great…_

"I'm officer Rovers and this -" he points at his partner, "is officer MacLarney. We're here to investigate the death of Cole Trenton… Maybe you can tell us a little more about the night you and your brother were…" He takes another look into their file. "-kidnapped."

Dean runs a hand over his bruised face, straightening up in the uncomfortable plastic seat next to Sam's bed. "Sure… uhm. It was actually just my brother that got kidnapped at first." Dean explains, deciding to go with the truth for once.

He really wasn't in the right mind to fabricate any well-thought-out lies, -not with Sam's pale body lying so still and lifeless next to him and not with the horrifying memories of what happened still clouding his mind. "I went to the warehouse by myself after that sick bastard called to tell me he had Sam."

"Where did he get your number from? Did you know each other before that incident?" one of the officers demands to know.

Damnit… Dean hasn't thought that one through. He sends a fleeting glance towards Sam, wishing for his brother to wake up and supply him with his usual quick-wittedness. "Well, no. I've never met the guy before. He probably got my number from the telephone book."

"Any idea what he wanted from you?" the officer with brown curls and light stubble pushes, raising a bushy eyebrow in obvious skepticism. "I mean he must have had a reason for taking your brother, right?"

Dean snorts. "I don't know, he didn't say anything. Listen, officers… I don't mean to be disrespectful but could we wait for that until my brother is a little better? I can't really concentrate on anything but him right now and… it was a close call for him, you know?"

Dean gives his best impression of Sam's puppy dog eyes, but before either one of the police offers gets a chance to react, a nurse comes to Dean's rescue. "Mr. Hatfield? What are you doing out of bed?!" the shrill voice of the nurse Dean had come to hate over the past 20 hours rings through the air.

The petite elderly woman steps through the doorway and angrily stomps over to Dean, eyes ablaze with motherly fury. "Is it really so hard to understand that you need rest? You have several broken ribs and are still recovering from the surgery on your fractured cheekbone. I can assure you, that your brother is being taken care of in your absence…" the nurse tattles in a serious tone, before swiftly turning around to face the police officers.

"And you-" she points an accusing finger at their faces and Dean swears he sees them flinch back in fear. "your investigations will have to wait until these two are in a better medical state. Can't you see that they are not in any condition to answer your pesky questions?"

Despite the overall grimness of their situation, Dean can't hide the gleeful smirk that spreads on his swollen lips. "But, Ma'm-" one of the officers tries to protest.

"No buts, you can talk to the boys' attending physician if you don't believe me. Now please leave before I have to call ward security."

Dean grins as he watches them leave, fighting the urge to clap his hands for the stunt the lady had just pulled. She turns around, hands propped on her hips and Dean snickers. "At the moment, I don't know whether to kiss you or run for my life."

The nurse snorts with laughter. "I'm a little too old for you, don't you think? Now go back to your room, before I call the vultures back. And don't think they won't come back, because they will."

Realizing, he has been defeated, Dean gives his brother's hand a reassuring squeeze before pushing himself up on shaky legs. He knows that the cops will be back. And he knows that the next time they come, no nurse will be able to scare them off.

Because when they found them in that warehouse, Cole's face had been beaten into a bloody pulp and Dean had been covered in the guy's blood from head to toe. And yeah… even these monkeys in a suit can put one and one together. They need to bail. And they need to do it soon.

* * *

><p>"C'mon buddy, work with me here…" Dean whispers, gently pulling Sam's pliant body into a sitting position. It's 3:47 AM, or at least that's what the blinking numbers of the clock on the hospital nightstand says, and the nurse has left Sam's room for the nightly check-up exactly two minutes ago, which means they have about an hour to get out of here unnoticed.<p>

"D'n?" Sam tenses against his older brother's chest, head flopping forward to fall against Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah Sammy, it's me," he assures in a comforting tone, reaching out to tenderly brush a wayward tuft of hair from his brother's forehead. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand, little brother?"

"Y'kay?"Sam mumbles in his drugged haze, lifting trembling fingers to brush against Dean's cheek. Dean's gaze suddenly turns blurry with tears, his supportive grip on his brother shifting into more of a loose hug. Not even a day ago, Sam has been tortured and almost killed because of him and now the kid's sitting here, drugged to the gills, covered in gauze and barely conscious and asking about Dean's wellbeing.

That's Sam for you.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's not me you should worry about… Just a busted face and some bruises. Let's focus on you for a second, alright Sammy?"

"G'ng 'ome?"

Dean readjusts his grip on Sam's body, slinging one of his brother's arms around his own neck and wrapping his own around the expanse of Sam's back. "That's right, kiddo. We're going home. Your awesome big brother hotwired a car from the parking lot, so we'll be at the bat cave in no time…"

"'Pala?" Sam whimpers, nuzzling Dean's neck when he's being lifted and dragged over onto the wheelchair Dean had stolen from the waiting room. Dean's laugh is turning into a grunt as he struggles with his brother's weight. Sam can deny it all he wants but he loves that black Chevy just as much as Dean does himself.

"Yeah, Sammy. We'll get baby back too. Right after I took care of you."

"Hmmkay…" Sam hums in response just as Dean wraps a blanket around Sam's shaking form, protecting his poorly clad brother from the icy wind that waits outside.

It's the drowsy and completely-out-of-it version of an _"I'm okay. Take me home, I trust you."_ and that's all Dean will ever need to understand Sam. Because if you ask him- words have always been overrated between them.

"Just relax, buddy. I've got you," Dean mutters softly before whisking his little brother off into the night.

* * *

><p><em>2 days later...<em>

Sam pushes up from his mattress in the bunker when Dean comes through the doorway, balancing a tray of breakfast and pills on his one arm, while his gimp hand is tightly wrapped in an arm sling.

"Morning princess… got your beauty sleep? God only knows your ugly mug needs it…" Dean greets cheerfully, despite the fact that the entire right half of his face is swollen and colored in tinges of purple and blue.

"Hate to say it but you don't look any better…" Sam mutters groggily, rubbing his eyes and yawning like a four-year-old.

"Shut up, I had a broken cheekbone. Guy's bound to have a couple of bruises when he gets his face bashed in. Now take your pills and eat your breakfast like a good boy."

Sam grimaces in pain, dragging his cast leg to the edge of the bed as he leans over the tray with a curious spark in his eyes. "You made me scrambled eggs?"

Dean rolls his one functioning eye, while the other remains swollen shut. "Don't look so surprised… you need something warm in your stomach before taking the pain meds and I had nothing better to do."

Sam carefully props himself up against the headboard before taking a gulp of his girly coffee (Dean had laced it with milk, sugar and cinnamon powder) and Dean turns to leave the room, having run out of things to say. "So… I'll be in my room if you need me, just holler when you're finished."

He has barely wrapped his fingers around Sam's doorknob when his brother's voice calls him back. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean asks over his shoulder. "You need anything else?"

"Could you… I mean… have you had breakfast yourself?" Sam asks hesitantly. "Cause if you didn't… I figured we could maybe…share? I'm not really all that hungry and I can't finish this off by myself so…" Sam's rambling words stutter to a halt and he blushes, finally noticing that he is babbling nonsense.

Dean gives him a warm smile, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. Only Sammy can make him feel so needed- so appreciated with a handful of uttered words. But despite his brother's obvious wish to spend some quality time together, the urge to leave the room grows inside of Dean's chest with each passing second.

Because he doesn't deserve Sam's loving gaze and he certainly doesn't deserve Sam's limitless trust… He's a killer. And he had proved it yet again by cruelly killing Cole in front of Sam's eyes. He had lost control and now it was only a matter of time before the Mark of Cain turned him into a full-fledged, soulless, monster.

He should make it easier on all of them and just pack his things and leave… but how could he ever ditch Sammy when the kid was looking at him like this amount of hope and childish awe- like Dean hung the fucking moon or something...

With a heavy sigh, Dean steels his resolve, pulling up a protective wall around his mind and soul. He's good at withdrawing, after all- that's what he's been doing for practically all of his life.

"I already ate, Sam… Maybe next time," he apologizes, trying to ignore the disappointed look on his little brother's face at the rejection.

Sam's smile wavers even as he nods, floppy hair bouncing from his head. "That's okay... no, really. I was just… I… it's okay. I'm probably just gonna go back to sleep anyway and you probably need to do research…"

Dean sighs, heart clenching in his chest. Sam hasn't been this insecure and nervous around him in a long time… Maybe it is because of what happened back in that warehouse. Who is he kidding? Of course it is because of what happened! Sam's afraid of him. And who can blame him, really?

"Yeah... research. I better get going, now. Take your pills, Sammy," he turns around once more, shoulders drawn up and body tense with the words that rest heavy on his tongue- the long forgotten apologies he never got the guts to actually say out loud. Thousands of words weighing on his shoulders, dragging him down like the anvil of guilt that was wrapped around his neck.

"Dean, wait!"

He closes his eyes, heart raging in his chest as he stops in the doorway.

Tense silence follows Sam's alarmed outcry before he finally speaks in a quivering, defeated voice.

"You are avoiding me, aren't you?"

"Sam…" Dean sighs.

"I really thought this time was gonna be different, Dean." Sam snorts softly and Dean can imagine all too well what Sam's expression must look like- gutted and forlorn, his imploring gaze tearing its way through Dean's back. "I really thought, after everything that happened, we finally reached that point where we could talk to each other again...Really talk- and not just because one of us is dying or about to die or-"

"Jesus, Sam. I'm not avoiding you, okay?" Dean exclaims, before his brother can go any further. He runs a calloused hand through his hair before strolling back towards Sam's bed and plopping down heavily on the mattress next to his brother. "I'm not..._avoiding_ you, okay? You just need your rest after what happened… we both do."

Sam bites his lower lip before laughing humorlessly. "You're full of shit, Dean. This isn't about getting rest or regaining strength or whatever other crap you're implying. I know that something's up so you might as well tell me. If this is about Cole's father, Dean…I trust your judgment. Always have. If you killed that guy than you must have had a really good reason for doing it."

Dean closes his eyes and locks his jaw, heart growing heavy with guilt. "You sure about that?"

"What do you mean am I sure? Of course, I'm sure Dean. What is this about?"

"Nothing...it's just. A few weeks ago I was coming at you with a fucking hammer in my hand- ready to decorate the walls with your blood. And back there, in that warehouse? What I did to Cole?"

Dean breaks himself off, words crumbling like ashes on his dry tongue. He can still feel Cole's bones break beneath the force of his hits every time he uses his right hand and he can smell and taste the bitter tang of blood in everything he eats or drinks. Cole's unrecognizable face is the last thing he sees when he closes his eyes at night. And the first thing he sees upon waking up.

It's driving him crazy.

"Dean-" Sam breathes, hand reaching out for his older brother, but Dean moves back from the touch. His brother shouldn't ever touch him again- Sam is too pure, too good for somebody who is tainted with darkness like himself.

"Those are not really the perfect conditions to declare your undying trust in me, Sammy."

Dean gets up from the bed, starting to pace the room, but Sam's resolve seems to harden at the rejection. "No you're right, they are not. But then again, that wasn't my brother. It was a _demon_. And in that warehouse – it was the mark of Cain. "

"Sam-"

"No, Dean. Don't you dare fight me on this, not after what I did as soulless me- I let you get turned into a _vampire_, okay? And you never held it against me, so don't you go all hypocritical on me now..."

"Sam, this is different, okay?" Dean protests, not wanting his brother to add another load of guilt to the already existing pile of issues.

"Different _**how**_, Dean?! This isn't different at all. The roles are just reversed. You are my brother, man. And demon or not, _I know you,_ okay? Better than anyone in the entire world. I spent my whole life looking up to you. You raised me, protected me,- _died_ for me. Dean, do you really doubt that I trust you with everything that I am?"

**TBC...**

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><p><em>Hey everyone! I actually planned for this to be the last chapter, but then I figured I'd make you wait for the very last bit a little longer :P (because I'm so cruel) and give you an early christmas gift :)) I am not savvy in all things related to medicine and injuries- so I tried to keep the hospital part rather short, sorry for that guys! I already got the rest of the brothers' conversation finished but this chapter was getting so long, so I will post the rest in an extra chappie :D Hope that's okay!<br>Thanks once more for the AMAZING amount of reviews and all the love I constantly receive from you guys! I just hope you are still enjoying the story and that you will keep reading until the end. So who wants to know Dean's reaction to Sam's question?! Reviews are love, support is ALWAYS greatly appreciated! :D _


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Invisible line

**Chapter 7  
><strong>  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> _Well guys, this is it! Hope you enjoy the last chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Previously…<em>**

_"Sam, this is different, okay?"_  
><em>"Different how, Dean?! This isn't different at all. The roles are just reversed. You are my brother man. And demon or not, I know you okay? Better than anyone in the entire world. I spent my whole life looking up to you. You raised me, protected me,- died for me. Dean, do you really doubt that I trust you with everything that I am?"<br>_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Now...<em>**

How many times have they been down this road before? How many times has Sam asked himself that exact same question in his head only to be turned down by Dean with silence?

Because despite everything they have been through together, Dean still doesn't think Sam trusts him; that Sam _should_ trust him. And that is one of the oldest and strongest roots for their combined pile of family issues: Dean's absolute lack of self-worth.

Sam sighs when the silence becomes insufferable between them and sadly shakes his head. Some things just never seem to change…

"C'mon man," he tries again, sitting a little straighter in bed. "You don't really think I trust some ex-military asshole with a penchant for torture over my own brother, do you?"

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's dramatization. It isn't that he doesn't trust Sam enough to confide in him. He just isn't the share-and-care type of guy, never was.

And it is hard to talk about what happened back there in New York. But one look into Sam's tear-filled gaze is enough to crumble his resolve. He was never able to deny his brother anything when he looked at him like this.

"What do you want me to say, Sam? I killed the guy. Didn't even know the bastard had a kid." The admission comes easier to his lips than expected and Dean swallows before going on. "But it wouldn't have mattered, really. I would have done it anyway, just not in front of the boy's eyes."

He isn't heartless, after all. No kid should ever have to witness the death of a beloved one. Not like he had himself, when his mother burned to death on their ceiling.

Sam takes the information in quietly, his face void of accusation or contempt. "Okay…" he says and Dean can see that he's itching for more, wanting to hear the rest of the story. "But he was a monster, right?"

The sentence is phrased like a question and there is insecurity wavering in his tone. Dean meets his brother's questioning gaze, heart speeding up in his chest. Because this is what the story boils down to, in the end. This is what's really important.

If Cole's dad was some supernatural creature- his death was justified, no questions asked. But if not? What would that make of Dean, then? A ruthless killer. That's what. And will Sam still think of Dean the same way then? Will he still look at his older brother with the same amount of boundless trust? Yeah, right… Dean doubts it.

Upon noticing Dean's hesitation, Sam grows agitated, eyebrows rising to meet his hairline. "Dean?" he pushes gently, tone wavering ever so slightly. "Cole's father was a monster… _right_? And that's why you killed him."

Dean nods slowly. "Yeah," he breathes, not trusting his own voice to speak any louder. "Yeah he was a monster of the worst fucking kind. But not in the way you might think…"

"What happened?" Sam asks.

"I got a call from a desperate mother, telling me her daughter's been missing. Dad was doing a job in Georgia and I figured I might as well check it out…" Dean snorts at the memory, having come to regret that particular decision about a million times in his life. "Turns out that the girl wasn't the only one that went missing. Kids disappeared all over the neighborhood. Girls between the age of 5 and 15..."

Realization sparks to life in Sam's eyes at Dean's words. "Shit…" he mumbles in dark foreboding, already imagining what comes next.

"Yeah…" Dean agrees bleakly, not even trying to put up a brave front. To the day, the memories of what happened are still haunting him in his dreams and it is almost painful to dig them all up from the darkest corners of his mind. "I thought it was something supernatural at first. Turns out there was this overly friendly neighbor with a thing for school uniforms and piggy tails. He led the local choir… the sanctimonious asshole."

Dean takes a shuddering breath, trying to steel himself for what's about to come. "Jesus, Sam… I found their corpses in the guy's cellar. What was left of them anyways…"

Sam sucks in a breath, eyes widening in shock and compassion. "Oh god… did he- ?" he stops mid-sentence unable to formulate his thoughts out loud.

Dean clenches his good hand into a fist against the rising fury that quells in his chest. "What do you think, Sam?!" he snaps, words coming out way harsher than he intended for them to sound. It's just so hard sometimes- what they are doing.

Because despite all these supernatural sons of bitches that make this world dark and terrifying, it's the human monsters that are the most dangerous.

Dean shoots his brother an apologetic look, hoping to convey that the anger inside of him isn't directed towards Sam, that Dean had just lost his grip on reality for a second- emotions from the past finally getting the better of him. He swallows when Sam's hand lands on his quivering shoulder, gently squeezing the tense muscle in a gesture of emotional support. And as stupid as it might sound, it gives him the power to continue talking.

"I…I found three of them…... they...they had plastic bags over their faces… Apparently the guy- Trenton… he used some kind of spell book to make them docile and keep them quiet... He had a whole shitload of books about black magic and Wiccan spell works down there too. "

"Shit, Dean. I don't even know what to say…That's horrible." Sam shakes his head, pain and empathy written all over his face. His fingers are tightening on Dean's shoulder and Dean feels strangely comforted by the gesture.

He knows if he stops now, he will never get the courage to tell Sam the whole story again, so he takes another deep breath and goes on. "I called the cops, but before I could leave the fucking bastard found me. Went at me with a knife…"

Dean snorts humorlessly before tugging down the collar of his black shirt, exposing a thin jagged line above his right collar bone- a scar that Sam has seen a million times before without knowing-with asking where Dean had gotten it from. He had always just assumed that it happened on some random Wendigo hunt in the woods, not this- never something like this. Sam's eyes fill with tears of guilt and shame as he reaches out to run a finger along the thin scar on his brother's freckled shoulder. "I never knew…" he admits, before Dean shrugs his hand off. "Just a scratch, Sammy. I've had worse than that."

"So… you killed him?"

Dean looks away. "I'd do it again if I could."

A thick and pensive silence spreads between them after Dean finishes with neither of them knowing what to say, then after a few minutes, Sam awkwardly clears his throat. "…Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean looks up at his brother with a confused frown. "For what?"

"Not being there, I guess… I'm sorry you had to go through all that alone."

Sam has always known that Dean wasn't the ironclad, tough hunter he pretended to be on the outside. Everybody who knows his brother better also knows that he is actually a warmhearted and deeply affectionate guy with a huge heart. Witnessing something so terrible and then having to carry the weight of that horrible experience all by himself must have been poison for Dean's psyche. And even though Sam couldn't have known any of that was going to happen, he still feels incredibly guilty considering that he himself had been in sunny California at that time, going out with friends and dating Jessica.

But Dean's doesn't seem to share the sentiment. He shakes his head, features determined in his denial.

"Dude,… I'm glad you weren't there. That's not something you forget, okay? I'm just glad you didn't have to see- glad you were out, living the good life-"

"While you were miserable and alone?!" Sam pushes. "Digging up corpses of little girls in some pedophile's basement?"

Dean sighs in defeat, knowing his little brother wouldn't drop the issue this easily. "Look, it happened a long time ago, okay? You were in college and that's okay, Sammy. You didn't know stuff like that was going to happen and even if you did, I wouldn't have wanted you to be there. Anyways,… the guy's kid-"

"Cole," Sam supplies, thankfully dropping the issue of Stanford.

"He saw me with the bloody weapon. The cops were coming- I had to bail."

Because getting caught by the NYPD with a bloody knife and a cellar full of corpses? Yeah…not such a good idea.

Dean snorts, licking his calloused lips. "Never would have thought this would come to bite me in the ass…"

Sam raises a provocative eyebrow, shooting his brother an 'are-you-out-of-your-freaking-mind' look.

"So you didn't think the teenager who saw you kill his father would remember your face?" Sam repeats incredulously. "Because things always run so smoothly with us."

Dean's face turns grim with annoyance. "Well what do you think I should have done, Sam? Kill the kid?"

"No, of course not," Sam recoils from the suggestion. "I don't know Dean. Keep an eye on him, maybe? I mean we know all about revenge when it comes to family."

"Oh and when –pray tell – should I have done that? When dad was missing? When he died and you were having visions? Or when we were trying to stop the freaking apocalypse?"

It's not like Dean has never thought about Cole again- there just never was enough time to actually check up on the kid. And even if he had done so, there would be no guarantee that Cole wouldn't have ended up on a crazy killing spree if Dean had somehow come around to explain the situation.

"Or maybe I should have driven up to him and exchanged our feels during the time Cas thought he was god and the devil was sitting on your shoulder?"

"Dean-"

"Or maybe when Bobby died or when you did the bloody trials and it almost cost your freaking life."

"Dean, stop it-"

"Or hey, I know- maybe I should have done it after I took on that freaking mark and you told me you _couldn't care less about my sorry ass_-"

"DEAN. I get your freaking point okay?! So we were kind of pre-occupied with other things…"

Dean snorts once more. "Kind of?" he chuckles darkly, rubbing a hand across his swollen lips.

Sam smiles weakly, eyes sparking with wistful sadness. "Our lives suck, man…"

Dean's own smile turns into a lazy grin. "What, you don't like getting abducted and tortured by vengeful nutjobs?"

Sam chuckles darkly in return. "One might think we would get used to that shit after almost 10 years on the road together…"

"10 years?!" Dean exclaims. "Try twenty... I've been shooting Wendigos when you were still in your diapers."

And under any other circumstances Sam would probably use the chance to point out how fucked up their lives are and how much of a terrible father their dad was in letting Dean delve into the hunting business at such a young age, but right now he just can't gather enough energy for any of that. So he just laughs it off instead, glad that his brother has once again managed to guide their conversation onto the safe track of sarcasm.

"Alright," he chuckles, wincing when the contractions cause his injured shoulder to spasm. "So are there any other crazy guys I should know about that fall into the _I-have-beef-with-your-brother-so-I-am-gonna-kick-your-ass_ category? Because a simple heads up would be nice..."

Dean shakes his head. "None that I can think of right now. But just in case we happen to be in a similar situation again- next time, shut your mouth and don't try to make the guy with the knife angry, alright?"

"You did not really just say that to me, did you?" Sam huffs, propping an arm against his side and raising an accusatory look. "Dean, you are the epitome of rash stupidity when it comes to facing off bad guys."

Because Sam had been forced to hear his brother's snappy comebacks one too many times in the face of danger, had been forced to watch Dean take the punishment for his sassy glibness way too often to find this even remotely funny.

Upon sensing his little brother's annoyance, Dean raises his hands in playful surrender. "Just leave the brash defiance to me next time, that's all I'm saying. The badass attitude doesn't fit you…"

Dean winks at him to take the punch out of his lazy jibe, making sure his brother understands that he isn't being serious. Or at least not entirely. Because Dean will always have something against Sam putting himself purposefully in danger and even though that is part of their job description- the older brother will never be able to just stand by and watch while Sam is drawing unwarranted attention to himself by enraging their opponents even further. That's clearly Dean's job.

Satisfied with the way their talk has turned out, Dean finally clears his throat and gets up from Sam's bed once more, knees creaking in protest. "So, now that we've had this lovely bowel movement…" Dean grins at his own joke and Sam can't help but smile a little himself, thinking of the Supernatural Musical and the girls that portrayed their alter egos in the school play. "I'm going to get back to work and leave you to have your… by now_ cold_ breakfast."

"Dean, wait," Sam holds him back by wrapping his long fingers around the thick white bandages covering Dean's right wrist from where the handcuffs had torn into his skin. "There's one more thing I need to talk to you about…"

He takes a deep breath, meeting his brother's wary gaze over the short distance between their bodies. "I'm not trying to be judging here… honest. I just… I need to know. Back there when you went… full metal jacket on Cole… was it because of what he did? Or was it because you lost control due to the mark?"

Unmistakable panic flashes in Dean's green eyes and if Sam wasn't holding him by the arm, he would have probably fled the room right that second. But Sam needs to hear the truth, so they can know what they are dealing with. And even if his stupid heart threatens to claw its way out of his throat at the intense fear of losing Dean, Sam still needs to hear this, still needs _to_ _be sure_.

The silence stretched between them for so long that Sam is halfway expecting Dean forgo an answer by remaining quiet, but after what seems like a small eternity, his older brother finally closes his eyes in defeat.

"It's the mark. I've been feeling it for a while now." he admits quietly, eyes dropping to the ground in shame.

Sam's breath stutters with the terrifying knowledge of what his heart knew all along.

"Okay…" he whispers in return, tightening his grip on Dean's wrist as if to silently communicate his undying support. Because no matter what else happens in the future, no matter what else they will have to deal with, Sam will be right by his brother's side, backing him up and fighting every step along the way until the bitter end. "Okay, Dean. Don't worry. We'll find a way to get rid of it. We'll fight it. Together."

He says the words with so much conviction, that Dean quivers from the force of it.

He doesn't look up to meet Sam's gaze when he nods shakily, jaw clenched and shoulders hung low in defeat. "Yeah… sure. Whatever you say."

Sam's heart clenches painfully at his brother's resignation, desperately trying to find a way to reach out towards his sibling.

"Dean…" he blinks rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision. He feels the miniscule tug of Dean's hand in his fingers and squeezes them tighter around his brother's wrist, locking him firmly in place. "One more thing. Earlier… what you said- the… the thing about… how I _couldn't care less _about you?"

Dean's eyes widen visibly and this time he manages to rip himself from Sam's hold with another more forceful tug of his arm.

"I have to go," the older brother murmurs hurriedly but Sam shoots forward in his bed, grabbing a fistful of Dean's shirt to keep him in place.

"Dean, please, hear me out."

Dean snorts and there is so much pain- so much hurt and vulnerability in that one little sound that Sam feels a pang of guilt just listening to it. He has caused that pain and he will not ignore that huge elephant in the room a second longer.

"I _**never **_said I didn't care about you." Sam carries on imploringly, wishing his brother would look him in the eye for what he was about to say. Because Sam doesn't have the same way with words his brother seems to be gifted with and he isn't sure that he can express all the emotions in his heart with mere words, when Dean isn't even able to meet his gaze. "I said….I said I'd let you die…"

"Sam_ please_-" Dean breaks him off and Sam almost feels sick when he hears the tears in his brother's voice. Dean is begging him to stop talking. That's how much the mere memory of what Sam had told him still hurts him.

"You said you lied... when Metatron stabbed me... you said you didn't mean it-"

"Dean, _I didn't. _Not the way you understood it anyway... Back then in the bunker... I was _so angry_- so _hurt_ by your actions that I just needed to hurt you back- to make you feel a tiny flicker of the emotional pain I endured. It was stupid. I never should have done that to you... I regretted it the second the words left my mouth."

"Okay."

"No, Dean. Look at me, please. I would not ever let you die, if there was the slightest chance to save you. You gotta know that. Man, I would die for you in a second. Always would have. Always will."

"Sam... I know that. " Dean sighs, once more attempting to break out of his younger brother's hold. But Sam just tightens his finger around the fabric of Dean's shirt until his knuckles turn white.

"But you didn't know it back then and I feel like such an ass..." he snorts in disgust over his own actions. "You know even in my darkest hours you always made me feel like... like I was loved... unconditionally. Always wanted. Always protected. And how do I thank you? By telling you that _I'd let you die_- like you mean nothing to me at all..."

"Sammy..." Dean chokes out in a breathless gasp.

Sam shakes his head, needing Dean _to understand_.

"And then you die. You just... just die in my arms and there's nothing... _nothing_ I can do to stop it and not enough time to t-tell you that I didn't mean it... "

"Sam..."

"That we are not just partners. That you have _never _been anything less than my brother and the most important person in the world to me."

Dean is shaking beneath Sam's clingy hold, the vibrations of his quivering body noticeable. He doesn't protest any longer, doesn't try to turn away from Sam's words and it feels so good to finally get this from his chest. Sam takes a deep breath, feeling a tear slip from his brimming eyes. They need this to mend their broken relationship_- they need to __talk _and say the things that have remained unspoken between them for so long.

So Sam takes his shaking fingers from Dean's shirt and raises a shaking hand to gently lift Dean's beaten face until their gazes are locking.

"I love you, man. I know it might not always have seemed like it, but there was not a single moment in my life where that wasn't true. Not one second."

They don't ever say stuff like this out loud. They show each other in different ways, like having each other's' back on a hunt or tending to each other's wounds after getting injured, or in the playful brotherly banter they exchange, or in making breakfast for the other, or putting a glass of aspirin on the other's nightstand after a night spent drinking. It's there in every gesture they exchange, every wordless glance they share but it's never EVER spoken out loud. Because grown men don't say shit like that. It's not appropriate, not _**common**_. But Sam's wish to conform to normality is long gone by now and he has finally come to realize that Dean and him will NEVER be like other people, so the 'normal' rules don't apply to them. And even if they did, Sam doesn't care.

"Sammy, you don't have to-" Dean begins, shaking his head and gnawing on his lower lip in an obvious sign of discomfort.

"But I want to." Sam interjects, before his brother can protest any further. "I want you to know all that. Without a doubt. I don't **ever **want to see you look at me in wonder again when I try to save your life. I don't want you to die again, thinking I would be okay after you're gone... _Because I never was_."

Tears are spilling freely from his eyes now, but Sam can't stop talking. Like a broken dam, the words keep rolling from his tongue, heart overflowing with repressed emotions.

"I was not okay, Dean. Not after you went to hell. Not after I _'hit a dog'._ And certainly not after Metatron. And I will never be okay with you dying. So you better get that through your thick skull and do _everything_ in your might to kick this stupid mark in the ass, got it?"

Dean presses his lips together and nods shakily. And because normal can screw itself and they are already in the middle of such a girly emo-talk, Sam makes a rash decision and viciously tugs at Dean's shirt, causing the older Winchester to stumble forward- taken completely off guard by the sudden movement.

"Wha-" Dean crashes awkwardly against Sam's chest and Sam doesn't miss a beat before wrapping his strong arms around his brother's shaking frame. "Sammy- what-" Dean tries to disentangle himself but Sam's arm tighten in protest, burying his head in against Dean's stomach from his sitting position on the mattress. "Shut up, Jerk." He utters in a watery laugh and his heart rate speeds up just a little when Dean finally catches on with the program and hugs him back tentatively, wrapping his one functioning arm around Sam's trembling shoulder. They stay like that for a little while, silently basking in each other's presence, until Dean gets twitchy in Sam's arms.

"Such a girl…" the older brother murmurs affectionately before they part with equally flushed cheeks and teary eyes.

"Are you done with the mother of all chick-flick-moments, bitch?"

Sam snorts a laugh. "Depends. Did I get my point across?"

Dean's face grows serious as he lets his gaze trail down to where the Mark of Cain is hidden beneath his plaid flannel shirt. He's quiet for a short moment before looking up again to meet Sam's hopeful gaze.

"We'll get through this, Sammy." He says, sniffing quietly and Sam doesn't miss that his brother's voice doesn't sound as hollow and defeated as before. "Together."

"Yeah. I know."

They share a silent promise without words. Whatever awaits them next, come heaven or hell or high water, they will fight it together, side by side. Just like they always have.

_ You and me against the world._

**The END.**

* * *

><p><em>Wow. It's over guys, can you believe it? At this point, I'd like to thank you all again for being so supportive and giving me such an amazing feedback! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter as much as the rest of the story and didn't get disappointed. On a short note concerning Cole's father- I really didn't like the idea with the liver eating monster and since I couldn't make up any other cool creatures I went with this instead. I do not think, however that Sam and Dean would ever take lightly to killing any humans but in case of self-defense it could happen- so yeah. Just a little more angst and drama. Oh and I hope the chick-flick moment wasn't too over the top haha, but I couldn't help it. There's just so much these boys need to say to outright say to each other instead of always beating around the bush. <em>

_THANK YOU ALL soooooo much for the love :D And pleaaaase, one last time- drop me a few words about how you liked it! I will be forever grateful :D_


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